


Father's Day Surprise

by DiRoxy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BabySherlock, Cute, Faelock, Father's Day, Gen, Kidlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-29
Updated: 2014-05-29
Packaged: 2018-01-27 02:23:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1711502
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiRoxy/pseuds/DiRoxy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John certainly did not expect to wake up on Father's Day and find a bundle of blankets and curls on his doorstep, too unearthly to be anything but a fae changeling. But he did, and now he and his wife are the care takers to one William Sherlock Scott Watson nee Holmes. Happy Father's Day, John.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Father's Day Surprise

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This is a piece for Lockson's Father's Day challenge on Tumblr. While I didn't do a common "Father's Day" idea with the piece, it's been a little plot bunny in my head for weeks now. I hope you all enjoy it!

Father’s Day Surprise

                Whatever he had expected to wake up to in the morning, it certainly wasn’t this. Maybe a morning with his wife, a lie in for them where he could lavish praise on her and her belly where their daughter was growing. It was father’s day, he was aware of that on some level, but he didn’t actually expect to be a father right yet. Especially since Mary was only 6 months in to her pregnancy. But yet there he was, staring at a little bundle of blankets and black curls with unearthly, intelligent eyes. He’d heard stories about the changelings from Mary, they were fae creatures placed in human homes to learn about the human world. He just never expected them to be real. Oh no, John Watson was a realistic man – if prone to flights of romantic fancy when it came to his wife – and this was something that most certainly was not part of one’s average reality.

                “Mary?” he called, turning his head to look over his shoulder at his wife. He was in firm denial about the hysteria that was creeping into his voice – very few things in life could phase him he wasn’t about to let this moment join the ranks. “Uh… Mary?”

                “I’m coming dear, just one moment,” she called back.

                He could hear the rustling of her robe as she put it on, and he felt hypersensitive of her footsteps – quiet as they were – as they led in his direction.

                “What is it, darling?” she questioned. She placed a hand on his shoulder, peering over the top. A soft gasp alerted him to the fact that she did indeed see the child on the doorstep.

                “That,” he said, if a bit belatedly. “There’s a-a… baby… in front of our door.”

                “Yes John, I can see that,” she teased. She moved around him, crouching down and lifting the babe into her arms. There was a pause as she juggled the blankets around in order to get a good hold on him and then she cuddled the babe close. “Well hello there sweetheart,” she cooed. She ran a hand through the thick black curls and smiled down at him, prompting the child to smile back. “What’s your name?”

                John stepped forward at that moment, picking up the white scrap of paper that had fluttered out when she had rearranged the blankets. Peering at the looping, cursive script across the parchment – it certainly wasn’t paper, it was much too thick now that he had his fingers on it – he let out a started huff. “William Sherlock Scott Watson nee Holmes. That’s what the card says his name is anyway,” he said.

                Mary giggled lightly, watching as the child – as Sherlock – reached up and tugged on her curls gently. “Well then, welcome home Sherlock,” she murmured, bumping noses with the child and smiling brightly when he burbled in response. “What else does the card say, John?”

                He blinked, flipping the card over and trying to decipher the text again. “Best wishes and happy father’s day from the King under the Hill,” he read off. He stared at the parchment again, a faint tingling making itself known in his left hand and he clenched it reflexively. “Is this what the fae do? Drop children off on doorsteps and actually leave cards?” he asked. He tucked the parchment into his pocket, shaking his head and stepping up to look at the child closer. “He certainly can’t be anything other than fae, he can barely pass for human,” he murmured.

                Mary hummed in response, leaning into John’s side. “That may be true, but he’s ours now. He’ll be lovely company for Marie when she’s born. They aren’t that far off in age, perhaps a year when she’s born.”

                John couldn’t help but agree to that, Sherlock could only be about sixth months old and would be close to a year old when his and Mary’s child was born. Without doubt though, this would be the most interesting father’s day present he’s ever gotten. Except maybe the ones that the children would come up with in the future – Heaven only knows how that would go. He let out a soft, exasperated sigh, but his smile was fond as he pecked a kiss on Mary’s cheek and turned to let them all go back inside. He really shouldn’t have expected anything else when she’d told him all of the stories – perhaps there was something else she hadn’t been telling him, but they could sit down and discuss that later. After he had tea and had a chance to let this all sink in. Father’s Day indeed.


End file.
